


Finding Love, Facing Tragedy

by Moit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1600667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the nogitsune is defeated, Stiles goes from bad to worse. Derek visits to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Love, Facing Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This one is for my writing partner in crime.

After defeating the nogitsune, Stiles seemed to be improving, but that was the calm before the storm. As the weeks bled on, it became clear that his body was giving out on him. He was hospitalized within a month of Allison's death. Five days later, the doctors suggested the Sheriff move his son to hospice. There was nothing else they could do.

Stiles’ friends filed in and out of the sterile hospital room. They didn't stay long; Stiles couldn't speak very well, and watching their friend waste away was too hard to watch. Scott, especially, found it difficult to maintain a brave face. This was his best friend, his brother. Of course his first solution was to offer Stiles the bite, but for the third time, Stiles refused.

"This is my penance," he had said. He left it at that, and Scott didn't ask again. The Alpha kept his face calm at the hospital and took out his rage, his frustration, his grief, on the trees in the Preserve.

*

Derek visits after everyone else has gone home. Even the Sheriff had been convinced to take a break. "I'll stay here until you get back. I promise."

When Derek enters the hospital room, his breath flees like the air being let out of a balloon. The boy in the bed looks nothing like the vibrant, exuberant young man Derek used to know. Not even the nogitsune's presence had dragged him down this far. Stiles' lips are chapped, skin sallow, eyes sunken. He looks like a corpse.

He seems to be sleeping at first, but when Derek moves closer to the bed, his eyelids flutter, revealing those keen amber eyes. They, at least, remind Derek who Stiles was--is.

"Hey," Stiles rasps out, his voice little more than a whisper.

"We don't have to talk," Derek insists, laying a strong hand on Stiles' arm. God, the kid feels like stone. Even his skin is cold. "I just wanted to see you."

Stiles shakes his head slowly, hair making a swishing sound on the pillow. His movements look like a doll that is slowly running out of batteries. "I'm glad you came."

"Well, I've got to make up for all the times you dropped in to annoy me, right?" Derek feels tears biting at his eyes and he clenches his teeth to hold them back.

"Tell me," Stiles wheezes, fighting to draw in a breath so he can speak, "what it's like to be in love."

Derek's eyebrows draw together in confusion, and Stiles continues.

"I've loved Lydia . . . since third grade . . . but that's not . . . sharing love."

At first, Derek doesn't know what to tell him. He's been in love before, yes, but he's known so much more loss. He loved Paige, and he killed her. He loved Kate, and she killed his family. Then, he thought he loved Jennifer, and she tried to kill him and his friends. He's not exactly the barometer for this kind of question, but he is in love again. Misery loves company, and it seems Derek Hale falls in love with tragedy.

Derek cups Stiles' hand in both of his own. He used to think how much Stiles' hands looked like pale birds, fluttering around as he spoke with animation. Now, they look like worn, defeated, like the boy to whom they belong.

"Love is . . . " At first, he's not sure he can do this, but then he remembers all the things he loves about Stiles. He may not have a chance to admit his feelings, but he can give him this. "Love is knowing that when you fall, there's someone there to catch you. No matter what, no matter how badly you fuck up, that person always has your back. It's . . . " He closes his eyes and lets his imagination take over. This may be the last time he gets to talk to Stiles, so he might as well give it his all. "Pancakes in the morning and kissing in the rain and fighting even though you're going to make up again in minutes. It's cuddling in front of a fire and skinning dipping in the lake. It's having someone by your side for the rest of your life." When he opens his eyes again, Stiles' are closed, and his breathing is deep and even.

Derek takes the opportunity to leach as much pain away from Stiles as he can. Before he releases the boy's hand, he draws it to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on the tissue-paper skin. "I love you, Stiles."

*

The next morning, Derek returns to the hospital to find Stiles' bed empty and the room pristine and sterile again.

"Excuse me," he says, grabbing the nearest nurse, "where is the boy who was in that room last night? Stilinski?"

The nurse gives him a confused look. "I'm sorry, his father checked him out early this morning."

Derek's heart plummets, and he doesn't wait to hear the rest of what she has to say. They have already moved Stiles to hospice, and Derek doesn't want to see him like that. It was bad enough the previous night.

He heads to the Preserve instead, shifts into his beta form, and runs until he collapses. When he gathers enough strength, he lifts his face to the sky and lets out a howl full of mourning. Wolves mate for life, and though Stiles was not his mate, Derek feels his loss just as acutely as if he had been.

When he gets back to the loft, he has seven missed calls from Scott, and twice as many text messages. He doesn't read any of them. He'll get the details of the funeral within a couple of days. Until then, he plans to sleep his grief away.

*

Insistent knocking on his door--Scott, no doubt--wakes Derek from his slumber. "I'm coming! I'm coming! Geez, what do you--" he throws the door open, and the words die on his lips. He sweeps Stiles up in a hug without another thought.

"Good to see you, too, big guy," Stiles chuckles as Derek sets him back on his feet.

"I thought you were dead," Derek whispers, cupping Stiles' face in his hands as if to reassure himself that the boy in front of him is real. His eyes still carry dark circles, and he needs a good meal, but his color is better, and his eyes are brighter than the day before. Best of all, he's standing in the doorway. Derek seems to remember himself, then, and ushers Stiles into the apartment. 

"What happened? I saw you yesterday and you were . . . "

"Yeah." Stiles gives a nervous chuckle. "The doctors didn't know what was wrong with me in the first place, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn't exactly tell them it was thanks to 'freaky werewolf powers,' so they just sort of chalked it up to a medical miracle and released me. My dad drove me over here, though. He's not willing to let me drive yet, and he practically won't let me out of his sight. You also didn't answer any of my calls, and I had to see you." Stiles glances down at his hands. "Did you mean that? What you said yesterday?"

"Of course," Derek answers automatically.

"Good." A smile splits across Stiles' face. "Then I have a confession to make. You know I still blame myself for Allison's death--" Derek wants to interrupt, but Stiles plows on--"and I just sort of . . . gave up. I gave in. I've had a thing for you for quite a while now," pink spots appear high on Stiles' cheeks, "but after everything that happened--"

Derek doesn't let him finish this time. He grabs Stiles' face in both hands and plants a firm kiss on his lips. He's not going to pass this opportunity up twice.

When they finally part, Stiles is pleasantly flushed and he's wearing a silly smile. "I guess I should go tell my dad he'll have to come pick me up later."

Growling in agreement, Derek pulls him in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really stuck on the way in which Allison's death has and will affect Stiles, so that is more or less the impetus for this fic.


End file.
